The Unexpected Encounter
by Epicfroggz
Summary: In the midst of battle, Prussia loses sight of his brother. While looking for him, he finds someone else entirely. Join him as he finds out just what happens in World War 2. Now a three-parter, rated T for the some blood in the first chapter and the terrible truth of war in the third. I'll up the rating if needed..
1. Chapter 1

**The time was World War Two, specifically when the Nazis invaded the Soviet Union; it was the largest operation in all of history, and it was called Operation Barbarossa. It was on the first day, June 22 of 1941 that this story begins…**

"AGH!" The shell whistled past Prussia's ear, exploding some distance behind him. Where was Germany? When were all these cannons going to stop? Prussia shook his head, trying to get it back in the battle. Although the Red Army seemed to be dropping like flies, they still put up a good fight. And now they had taken his brother…

Nein, nein, nein, nein! They hadn't taken his little bro; the albino had just lost sight of him, right? He tried to calm his nerves because there was nothing to worry about. West could take care of himself if he ever needed to, and it wasn't like he was going to get knocked down by a _Slav_ of all people. There was nothing to worry about, nothing to worry about; there was nothing to worry about… Prussia shot some soldier in the head and took a shaky breath. He scanned the battle field, noticing that they were almost done here. With less of a threat, the albino could calmly go look for his brother, and everything would be alright.

After a moment or two, someone shot the last man standing and there was a sudden silence. Then whoops and cheers sounded out through the remaining Nazis (which was a rather large crowd) creating a large ruckus. Prussia sighed with relief, now he could go look for his brother in peace. The albino walked forward, stepping over the bodies of the fallen Soviets. For a short instance, Prussia felt a little bit of sympathy for the bodies on the ground. They did just slaughter them, giving them next to no chance of survival. Although, there could be some still left…

Prussia looked off to the distance, crimson eyes glistening. Not far off was a small tent that still stood standing, and Prussia ran off to it. There could be still some left! They could have his brother and, and they could be doing something to him! Or worse, he could be dead, killed by those undesirable _Slavs_! Prussia was taught to expect the unexpected, but all he could think about was his brother.

As he neared the tent, Prussia slowed down, heart pounding in his chest. There was a box of sorts, and the albino could hear soft whimpering coming from behind. A lock of light colored hair could be seen sticking out from above, and it wasn't blonde so… Who could this person be? Prussia took a step forward, gun at the ready. If it wasn't West, it could be a Soviet that was ready to kill him. Although there was a low probability of that, seeing as he (Prussia suspected he was a guy) was injured.

Prussia stood in front of the person and looked him over. The man looked like what Prussia thought was a generic Russian, big-nosed, probably really tall, broad, so on. Although, the most notable feature was his eyes; they were lavender, and he had a faraway look in them. A scarf was wrapped loosely around his neck… Wait a minute…

"RUSSIA?!" Prussia exclaimed loudly, a look of disbelief written across his face. The man who may or may not be Russia snapped his head up and then tilted it to the side, eyes narrowed.

"Teutonic Knights?" Russia asked with a heavy accent. Prussia covered his mouth, silently mouthing 'Holy cow!' He didn't think it could have been him at first, but now looking over the guy again the face was the same, he was just so huge! Prussia nearly jumped up with whatever confusing emotion he felt right now. Russia looked at him with an inquisitive face, probably wondering what he was doing.

"Yes," The albino breathed, "Yes, it's me, Teutonic Knights. Although not anymore, not anymore."

Russia smiled softly, "Ok, but who are you now? You are still same, da?" The Russian suddenly hacked loudly and Prussia winced.

"Are, are you okay?" Prussia kneeled next to him, in a pool of blood. He looked down for a second, and then looked over Russia himself, noting all of the injuries.

Russia had a long gash across his forehead that was streaming blood on his face. Also, he was holding on tightly to his bloody and filthy arm. Prussia tried to take a closer look at his arm, but the scared Russian pulled it away. Prussia frowned, tearing off one of the only clean parts of his clothing, and then used it to clean up Russia's wounds. When he got to the forehead Russia flinched so hard that Prussia flinched too.

"Oi, calm down. Shhh…" The Prussian put pressure on the wound until it stopped bleeding. He then moved down to Russia's arm and made that stop bleeding too. "Zhere, all better right?"

Russia responded by giving Prussia a big hug. He muttered a small thank you as Prussia laid his head on his shoulder.

"…Yeah, anytime." Prussia smiled. Apparently it did feel good to help people…

…

"Oh, you found zheir nation, bruder? Looks like ve are going to haz to take him to ze camp then." Prussia's eyes widened as he looked up. There stood his own brother, with the largest and cruelest smile he had ever seen ever.

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**HAHAHAHA, dat plot twist tho! I am so evil :D. Poor Russia though, someone had brought a knife to the gun fight. Oh well. ^J^ **


	2. Chapter 2

"You're lucky you get to ride in zhe truck vith me, Slav. If not, you'd be valking out zhere vith zhe rest of your pazhetic people." Germany spat as he drove on the back-road that was like most Soviet roads at the time. The truck bumped and rattled over all the rocks in the street. Said Slav payed no attention to Germany's attempt at intimidation, continuing his incomprehensible chant. Prussia watched his old rival with a look of sympathy; he knew what Germany had done with the Polish, and now this seemed to be Russia's fate too. Prussia tried to identify just what the captured nation was muttering about.

"Vasily Ivanov, Piotr Maximov, Natasha Maximovna, Nikolai..." Russia continued listing name upon name in a low, melancholy tone. Prussia's crimson eyes widened in realization; he was listing names of all those who'd died already. It didn't seem like he was going to stop anytime soon. Prussia felt a pang of guilt from how many people they'd slaughtered. They weren't subhumans like how Germany described them. These people had friends and family who cared about them, and Germany couldn't really see that. Perhaps it was because Prussia had spent more time with Russia, his sort of rival from the East. Maybe it was because Prussia was older in general, and knew how every life mattered. Germany was too young to see that.

"Get zhat thing to shut up, bruder. It iz messing vith my nerves." Germany ordered coldly. He seemed tense, shoulders squared, not even paying a glance to the back seat. Yeah, Germany was still too young. Prussia decided to go with a nice approach instead of an intimidating one.

"So, I never told ya," he began, "you can just call me Prussia, okay?"

Russia's voice faltered, coming to a stop when the albino lay a hand on his leg. He looked very surprised, as if he had just been shot after telling someone not to. "O-Okay..." The taller nation whined a little, muttering something along the lines of 'he stole my name'. Prussia wondered how he was going to keep Russia from continuing his chant, as West was probably going to get mad if he didn't.

"So..." Was it a good idea to ask questions about him? Or was it a better idea to start telling a story or something? He decided to go with the former and if that didn't work out, go with the latter. "So like, vhat happened to you man? I haven't seen you in a vhile..."

A small smile played on Russia's lips, but his deep purple eyes were narrowed. "Stop trying to talk to me, tovarishch." Prussia knew he'd called him comrade, but he wondered if his frenemy really meant it. He decided to just be blunt in what he was trying to accomplish.

"Vell, if you shut up bruder von't get mad, so don't say anything, okay?" Russia nodded slightly.

"Okay."

"If you ladies are done speaking, I vould like you to know zhat bruder vill be vatching zhe things zhat ve captured, and zhat you vill be treated just like anyvone else, Slav. You'll get to die vith zhe things you call people." Germany interrupted. Prussia could see his little brother's mouth twist into a cruel smile. He hoped he'd be able to find a way to make the concentration camp more enjoyable without his brother finding out...

When the truck stopped, Prussia found that they weren't at a concentration camp, but in fact just a giant field. "Zis is vere you get off, you monster. Have fun suffering." Germany said emotionless. Prussia was quite confused, but still ushered Russia out the car anyway. After he was sure Russia was out of earshot, he turned around and went back to his bruder.

"It's just a field West." Prussia pointed out.

"Ja." He replied, stopping. Prussia motioned for him to continue. "In zhis field all of zhe Soviets vill be kept. Is zhere a problem?"

"I, I mean. Like, zhey don't even have houses or bathrooms."

"Ja." Prussia blinked. This was an interesting form of torture. Would that even work out? Would that be effective? "Animals do not need houses or bathrooms, bruder. Don't look so surprised. Go to one of zhe ones alvready stationed here, zhey'll fill you in." Germany smiled as if his logic made perfect sense. Prussia decided to not press further, a decision he'll regret later, after he sees just what he let his brother do.

**There is a reference in the names Russia is listing off, if you find it you get a cookie. Also, there will be a third part, and it'll probably be in Russia's POV, when he finally gets freed. Stay tuned for that! :D Sorry if this part was short...**


	3. Chapter 3

**WARNING - THERE IS A 90% CHANCE THIS CHAPTER WILL MAKE YOU CRY. IF YOU ARE ONE THAT IS TRIGGERED BY DEATH AND DEPRESSION AND DEATH AND THINGS OF THE LIKE, I RECOMMEND YOU DO NOT READ THIS CHAPTER. Actually nevermind, do what you want. But I cried a little bit, and I wrote it so... Heads up, it's in Russia's POV.**

* * *

**The great war had ended in Europe, and the Allies were busy rebuilding and saving the remaining prisoners. One of the members of the Allies, the Soviet Union, had disappeared mysteriously in the midst of battle, shortly after the Nazis invaded him. It is unknown of his whereabouts, but his close friends and family fear he has been taken prisoner, which makes the search for obscure and secret containment camps all the more important. The Allies and other nations are searching vehemently for these POWs and believe they are close to finding them all. Yet the personification of the USSR remains lost in time...**

_There's no one left._ Except him. He was the only one in the entire prisoner-of-war camp that was still alive, and even then he felt like there was only a part of him left. Only half a man, half nothing. He couldn't think straight anymore, just broken cries and wisps of once complete thoughts. He couldn't really feel anything, his physical senses far too dulled after disease and infection ran rampant through his veins. The only emotion that far surpassed the rest was the sense of abandonment. Because that's what had happened right? He had been taken from his home and abandoned in a field, a field that used to be teeming with life but now only stank of death. And he was lonely, very very lonely.

_If only I was human,_ he'd thought wistfully once, _I could die along with my comrades..._ But no, his own fleeting immortality had cursed him to represent an entire country and himself too. Although now it felt as if he wasn't even connected to his own home anymore, even though his mind knew he was. If he wasn't Russia he wasn't anyone. Just a shattered mirror, cursed for much longer than seven years. But he was still alive, if you could even call it that.

Everyday he'd wake up from a long sleep (he'd been sleeping longer and longer lately), and wander around the field, stumbling over sprawled out corpses and slipping on pools of blood and waste. He could hear someone crying, wailing, moaning, sometimes all at once, and he pretended he was looking for that someone so he could help them. Yet as he covered every square inch of the field, kicking every body to see if they were alive, he never ever found anyone. Except for himself.

In the beginning of this, when he'd been newly taken to here by his long lost friend and a new person he'd never met before (at least, not fully), he had thought that he could be saved soon. He thought his friends would find him, free him. At least back then he had someone to keep him company, he had his comrades who tried to help each other. They all had the same goal of escaping.

But they died.

Sooner than later, he was staring down at the lifeless faces of his people, own body hacking and shriveling and barely bearing the own conditions that brought his human friends down. Their clothes had been taken by the evil guards and taken to the soldiers murdering their families. It was disgusting how he was assisting the Germans with his own pain, and it was one of the things he dreamt about often. His old rival Prussia, wearing his warm winter clothes, shooting down the sisters he loved. He didn't like to remember those nightmares in the mornings.

_Squishy..._ It was another one of those broken thoughts of his as he lay in the sludge that covered everything in sight. All of the remains of the people contributed to the squishiness, and he knew there wasn't much left he himself could contribute. His body wasn't completely still, as he had yet to find a way to stop shaking. He'd been trembling ever since the first cannon shell struck in June, and his constant crying didn't help. It was also difficult to breathe, as his body tried to do occasionally. He would usually end up hacking out some of his dead organs, which didn't help him at all. Especially since his body had already eaten up most of his muscles in an attempt to stay alive, and was moving on to the unimportant organs. The hunger had been unbearable for most of the people in the camp, resorting to cannibalism to meet their needs. But now that the bodies were infested with insects and were decomposing he couldn't eat them anymore.

The clouds above didn't seem to be moving, and no birds or anything of the like flew past. It was deadly quiet, and he let out a few soft whimpers to fill the gap; but everything was still empty. Suddenly, a dark figure streaked across the sky, the roar of engines highly noticeable. His breath hitched, the possibility of allies making his slow mind race. Were there still people looking for him? He'd ruled out that possibility long ago as the pain gripped his heart tighter and tighter. He really had been abandoned but now... Maybe there was someone out there! His body moaned in protest as he stood up, but if there were allies out there he had to make himself seen.

Slowly he stumbled over his fallen friends, aiming to get to the fence. He was solely fueled by adrenaline at this point. When he made it he did all he could to make noise so that maybe the pilot of the plane would help him, get him out of there. But his small burst of energy was running out, and time seemed to stretch out longer and longer. His grip on the fence weakened, and perhaps his grip on reality too.

Finally he gave up, arms falling down at his sides, head resting against the fence. The plane wasn't real, they hadn't really come to save him. _I was hallucinating._ Upon reaching that conclusion, Russia slumped against the fence, his chest tightened. He wanted to scream, but for the longest time he couldn't do it. He just simply didn't have any energy left to do anything, and he thought he would lay there forever.


End file.
